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Writer's pictureljellis57

Gathered Moss

Updated: May 13, 2023




Scott’s hesitation to respond encouraged his brother to repeat the query with more emphasis.


“I asked...who in the hell is Seth?”


Rubbing his chin under pursed lips, Scott’s squinted eyes remained fixed on the point where his little cousin had entered the hacienda. “Well…” A slow exhale from his deep breath briefly stalled the inevitable. “I'd venture a guess that Seth is Seth Westcott.”


Silence.


With a cocked eyebrow, Scott cast a sidelong look at his younger brother. Johnny’s narrowed eyes gradually took on the characteristics of dark blue-gray flint as he connected the name Seth with the word Westcott. “Thought the old man’s name was Phillip.”


“It is.”


“You tellin’ me there’s more than one Westcott?”


“I am.”


Silence.


Scott angled his head down and slightly to the right which assisted in a better assessment of his interrogator. The result was not encouraging.


Johnny’s thumb jerked toward the hacienda. “Who’s this one?”


“Grandson.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Scott returned his focus to the path of Kinsey’s departure.


“Half-pint’s been writin’ to this fella?”


“She has.”


Johnny crossed his arms and leaned slightly forward. “Mind tellin’ me how old Westcott is?”


“I'd say -” Perhaps humor would douse his brother’s smoldering temper. “Early seventies.”


Johnny drew his lower lip between his teeth hinting the attempt had failed. His submitted summary confirmed it. “Not feeling jovial, brother. It’s been a long day.”


Couldn’t agree more - and it’s only getting longer. Time to light the fuse. “Seth Westcott is my age.”


“Are you sayin’ you’re allowin’ that little girl to get tangled up with some grape crushin’ casanova who’s way too old for her?”


Done placating, Scott squared up to meet the controversy straight on. “Here’s what I'm sayin’ Johnny: allowin’ was never an option, Kinsey is not a little girl, a few correspondences do not justify tangled, the casanova is actually a potential business partner and comparing me to anything that’s way too old doesn't sit well.” Unblinking, Scott tilted his head back slightly while looking down the bridge of his nose at his combatant.


The brief standoff ended with the vague lopsided upturn of Johnny’s mouth - a smile not ready to commit. “I suppose that didn't sit too well. My apologies, brother.” Looking over his shoulder as if someone had called his name, the younger brother readjusted his hat low. Turning back, his eyes had darkened further in the hat’s shadows - making it difficult to judge the integrity of the now visible smile. “Tell the old man I won't be joining the family for supper tonight. Think I'll ride into town.


“Murdoch’s going to ask why the sudden need for your trip.”


Johnny held up his wiggling fingers. “Idle hands gather moss.”


If the circumstances were different, Scott would have found his brother’s reference to another one of Kinsey’s mixed up quotes funny. Instead, the jest, drowned in sarcasm, fueled his own sarky remark. “I thought a few dollars were required to keep your hands occupied.”


“Oh…” The sly grin wasn’t concerned with finances. “I'll manage.”


Watching Johnny walk away, Scott debated if he should join his brother - not that he was handed a friendly invitation to ride along. ‘Hey, Scott. Come with me so I can tell you how goddamn frustrated I am each time your cousin reminds me she'll never be the woman I want her to be.’ Sure Johnny. That should take more than a few beers to discuss. Then let's top off the evening with a good fist fight. I heard Henry just replaced the mirror behind the bar. Scott’s decision was made for him when Barranca traveled past the gate and down the road. “Dammit.”


Working his way toward the Great Room, Scott fully expected to hear a booming voice reviewing the protocol on inviting guests to the ranch. Instead, when entering he was greeted with the quiet rustling of papers as he witnessed his father’s never-ending quest to clear his desk.


“I told her whatever was so blessed urgent would have to wait.”


Scott stood inside the doorway while determining if he should break the news of Seth Westcott’s arrival. Once again, the decision was made for him.


“I'm about to tell you the exact same thing.”


A nod of acknowledgment was followed by a resigned smile of surrender. Next on the agenda - find Kinsey. Spying a neatly folded Green River Gazette on the side table, Scott snagged it up. Having a prop might help start a casual talk with his cousin.


“That newspaper best be returned in pristine condition so I can eventually read it.”


Not once had Murdoch's eyes strayed from his memos and reminders. Scott concluded seeing without looking was a gift God granted fathers.


Drifting from one room to the next ended in the kitchen where Maria, like his father, was intent on the task in front of her. However, stacks of papers were replaced with eggs, flour, sugar, various spices and a basket of apples.


“Maria, have you seen -”


“I shoo her out before she touch something.”


Scott reached for an apple.


“And you, señor Scott, will do the same.”


Another nod of acknowledgment was followed by a resigned smile of surrender while drawing back an empty hand.


Stepping outside, a methodical creak led Scott to the swing near the kitchen’s garden. No matter how often he oiled that damn squeak, it always returned. Kinsey, on the other hand, appeared oblivious to the grating noise as she rocked back and forth rereading her letter.


“Mind if I join you?” Expecting an invitation similar to the one Johnny, Murdoch and Maria had offered, he didn't wait for his little cousin’s rejection. Grabbing a wooden chair leaning against the garden fence, Scott planted himself in front of Kinsey - only a few inches shy of the swing’s reach. Assuming his relaxed pose of crossing his right ankle to left knee, he dove in. “So, Seth Westcott is coming for a visit.”


“Yes. Next month.” The calmness in Kinsey’s voice suffered from the ticklish excitement reflected in her eyes. “Seth’s enroute to Sacramento so he can only stay for a short period of time which is a shame. I have so much to show him.”


Scott raised an eyebrow.


“I mean we. We have so much to show… actually discuss… so much to discuss. The three of us. Did I mention he can only stay a couple of days?” The rhythmic creak carried on.


“And Murdoch agreed to all of this?”


“Oh, yes.”


Scott’s right leg extended outward so the heel of his boot caught the forward path of the swing - bringing it and its squeak to an abrupt halt. The laws of motion, however, assisted Kinsey’s journey to continue onward. Sweeping his arm out to lasso her waist guided a landing in his lap. “He did?”


A second thought surfaced. “I may have misspoke.”


“I see.” The loophole was offered. “Would you like to retract your earlier statement?”


“Of course. I meant to say, Oh yes, once we talk.” The confusion cleared.


Clarification was accepted. Better.” Smiling, Scott released his captive audience for her return to the swing and unfolded the newspaper which had obtained a few creases courtesy of Kinsey’s backside. So much for pristine.


“I thought you liked Seth.”


“I do.” Glancing at the Gazette’s headlines only gave the appearance of reading. Scott’s attention was centered on their conversation. “I look forward to knowing him to a greater degree.”


“Then why make things so difficult at times?”


“Because it’s my job.” Scott grinned as he turned a page. “More important - what's your opinion of Mr. Seth Westcott… as a business partner, of course?”


“I think he’s a fine man. Honest. Hard-working. Dedicated to his family business and legacy.” Kinsey paused. “Competitive.”


Scott folded the newspaper in half as if to focus on an article at the bottom of the page, giving him a moment to consider his cousin's final descriptive word for Seth.


“He’s open to new ideas on many issues. I'm guessing he could say Lucy Stone and not make it sound like the main ingredient in horse dung.”


Main ingredient in horse dung. He needed to remember that one. “So, Seth’s willing to discuss politics with you.”


“Don't you mean to say with women?”


“I meant it as a compliment, Freckles. Don't get your dander up.” Scott unfolded the paper and flipped to the back page. “And your opinion of Seth Westcott as a non-business partner?” Not hearing a reply, Scott’s gaze left printed words to rise and meet Kinsey’s eyes.


“I'll answer once you get to know Seth to a greater degree.”


“And why is that?” His little cousin’s expression announced he’d just asked a very stupid question.


“Well, because what you think is important to me.”


Kinsey’s statement brought a smile. “All right.” Scott set the paper aside. “I think you should let me bring up the subject of Seth’s arrival to Murdoch. He never fully recovered from your lack of seeking his approval for Winnie's invitation.” In return, Scott’s suggestion delivered a soft smile to his cousin’s face. “Best get changed before supper. Although, I think that pink-splattered ensemble you're wearing would impress Mr. Westcott.”


“Honestly, Scott.” Standing, eyes were rolled before she departed.


Sitting back, Scott fully opened the paper to discover the Green River Gazette had added a new feature that many small town papers were adopting - the practice of fillers. Articles, usually social oriented with a hint of scandal, were gathered from larger city publications and reprinted in a mishmash of outdated, yet amusing stories. The Gazette aptly titled it’s collage of useless information Gossip from Around the Globe. Scott guessed Will Jenkins was responsible for the catchy headliner. About to declare the section trash, a small photograph caught his eye: two familiar faces attending Engine Company No. 2 Firemen’s Ball.


It appeared moss had started to gather.

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